


Book I: The Magician

by DarkeShayde



Series: The Arcana: A Retelling [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Beginnings, Breaking and Entering, F/M, Fights, First Meetings, Fortune Telling, Goodbyes, Magic, Minor Injuries, Mystery, Other, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 19:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20857286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeShayde/pseuds/DarkeShayde
Summary: Shayde, a student of the magical arts, bids farewell to her Master Asra and welcomes an unexpected, late-night caller to the humble shop. The Countess Nadia has come with a proposal. “Come and stay at the Palace.” But that is just the beginning of this unusual night.





	Book I: The Magician

My name is Shayde. I am a student of the magical arts. I live and train in the city of Vesuvia, ruled by the Countess Nadia, wife of the late Count Lucio. I am rather short even compared to other women, only standing around 5’2. I have jet black, shoulder length hair and blue-grey eyes that, I’m told, change color depending on what I’m wearing. I am very pale skinned only because I am incapable of getting a tan at all, despite the harsh sun of this kingdom. My skin simply refuses to get any darker. Tonight, the evening fog is thick, blanketing the street in an ethereal, milky glow. I linger at the window to appreciate the tranquil scene, before drawing the curtains shut.

“I’ll miss you.” A voice behind me says. My master Asra, the fortune teller. I know nothing of his past. Yet he’s taught me all I know of magic. Asra looks young, though I do not know his exact age. His skin is a golden brown, which is an interesting contrast to his fluffy white hair. Everyone always says that he has captivating eyes, as they are a deep violet color that is very rarely seen. Asra tends to dress in loose fitting shirts over brown and black pants with a shawl thrown over him. I can’t understand how he stands to wear that gold choker in this heat or how he stands to wear two necklaces at once, though I suppose the simple blue gem on a cord is light enough not to annoy.

“Must you leave tonight?” I ask.

“It’s the dead of a moonless night. The right time for beginning a journey.” His eyes twinkle in the low lamplight. “Here … take this. For you to play around with while I’m gone.” A gift? How unusual. This can’t be good. Gifts are for long or permanent partings. I do hope this is neither.

“My tarot deck.” Asra says. That’s the last thing I expected him to give me. The tarot deck is Asra’s own creation, imbued with great power. These cards give me a creepy feeling that just lingers. I’m really not sure I want them around, but it feels wrong to turn down a gift from Asra. Especially when I never know when, or even if, he’ll be back.

“You think I’m ready, Master?” I ask. Asra smirks slightly. His expressions are always so subtle. It took me quite a while to notice the minute changes and even longer to interpret their meanings.

“You’re still calling me that …” He muses. “You know I can’t answer that for you. You’ve made incredible progress, but you still won’t let go of your doubt. Do _you_ think you’re ready?” He spins the questioning back around at me as he is always so good at. I can feel my frustrations mounting.

“Why don’t you ever answer my questions?” I mutter. Asra actually looks surprised and somewhat hurt by my backhanded insult, but I can’t take it back now.

“I don’t?” He wonders. “Well, I may not have all the answers you seek. But … the cards do. If you know how to use them. And you _do_ know how to use them, whether you believe it or not.” Master Asra has that look in his eyes as he pulls back the curtain leading to the back room.

“Let’s see how well you’ve learned.” He says. A few rays of starlight peek through the gauzy curtains. “It’s been a while since we’ve practiced.” I narrow my eyes at that. Like it was my fault that we haven’t been practicing. I can’t tell if he is just oblivious or is deliberately trying to get me agitated. Either way…

“Because you’re always gone?” I can’t help but quip as I walk toward the back room. I regret the jab at him when Asra looks away guiltily. Maybe I pushed too far.

“Maybe.” Is the quiet reply. “Someday you’ll find a _real_ teacher … Well, I’m here now. Let’s see how powerful you’ve become.” He’s always going on about how powerful and gifted I am … His confidence is heartening, but I don’t know where it comes from. Most of the time, I feel as though I am blindly stumbling through when something tells me that it should be easy. Like something I once had is missing or hidden from me. When we sit down, something brushes along my ankle, smooth and cool.

“Oh?” I hear Asra say. He reaches down from his chair and holds out his hand. A long purple serpent winds her way up his arm. I’m not usually a fan of snakes, but this one doesn’t bother me. Never can I remember seeing such beautiful, shimmering scales in nature. She flicks her tongue at me. It’s Faust, Asra’s familiar. She’s pleased to see me, I think. The snake has one hell of a poker face.

“If we’re all here … let’s begin.” Asra says. I shuffle the deck. His gaze follows the cards as they slip through my fingers. I lay three cards, face down, on the table between us, but I only have to flip over one.

“… The High Priestess.” I announce. Asra leans close, expectant.

“And what is she telling you? Is she speaking to you now?” He asks. When the cards speak to me, it isn’t in any audible, human tongue. Nothing that can be heard with my ears. Nonetheless, when my mind is clear, the answer always comes to me. Now is no different. I know exactly what to say.

“You’ve forsaken her.” I tell him. For a moment, all is still in the little shop. I can tell my words have stunned him. I am a little surprised myself, if I am being honest.

“I have?” Asra asks, his brow furrowed in concern. This is clearly not what he was expecting to hear, but the cards tell the truth, always.

“Yes. You’ve pushed her away, and buried her voice.” Asra frowns but says nothing, waiting for me to continue. “She calls out, but you won’t listen. Master, if you ignore her …” I am interrupted then by a sharp knocking that startles all three of us. A customer? At this hour?

“Did we forget to put out the lantern again?” Asra wonders aloud. “Just as well. I can’t stay any longer.” He gathers up his things to leave. I wonder where he’s going this time, and what he’ll bring back … But I know better than to ask him. He never answers.

“Well then … take care of yourself, Shayde.” He says. Asra turns to go, but stops abruptly. He still has something to say, but he won’t say it. Some things never change.

“Until we met again.” Is what he says instead. Asra parts the curtains soundlessly and slips out the back door after donning his hat and a scarf around his face. And just like that, he is gone again. Asra’s barely left when the mystery visitor knocks again. Impatient, by the sound of it. I open the door. The figure steps inside and begins to unwind the shawl from their neck.

“Forgive me for the hour … but I will not suffer another sleepless night.” The elegant cloth slips away, revealing the visitor’s face. Even in the dim light, I know her face at once. At the sight of her, my heart leaps into my throat. The Countess Nadia! Here in my shop, in the dead of night …

“Please, you must read the cards for me.” Countess Nadia goes on with gravity. Every one knows the Countess by sight. Her dark olive skin and long purple hair is admired by all and envied by many. Now, she has a determined look in her garnet eyes as she looks at me. I can see that she does not plan to leave empty handed.

“You’ve come to the right place!” I reply. I have no idea where the words are coming from. I sound much more confident than I feel right now. The Countess relaxes ever so slightly, her gaze sweeping over the shop.

“So I am told. Your reputation precedes you. Beggars and nobles alike … the people of this city whisper your name in wonder. Though in my dream you were … different.” The Countess pauses for a moment and I wonder if it was actually Asra she was referring to, but she shakes her head and continues before I can offer that suggestion. “No matter. I come with a proposal.” My mind is racing, trying to process everything and all I can produce is a one worded question.

“Dream?” I ask simply.

“Yes. An unwelcome ability I have come to possess.” She answers with a melancholy expression on her face. “My dreams are haunted by visions of a future waiting to unfold. But the future I saw, the one that brought me to you … is one I will not allow to pass.” Her words are filled with passion and my curiosity is piqued even more.

“What’s this proposal?” I ask.

“Are you nervous, perhaps? You needn’t be. I require very little of you.” The Countess says. “Come to the Palace, and be my guest for a short while. You will be afforded every luxury, of course. I ask only that you bring your skill … and the arcana.” Well, I’m not one to argue against dream prophecy, but the arcana … she must be talking about Asra’s tarot deck. Its true name is the arcana.

“I will alert the guards to expect you tomorrow. But before that …” Countess Nadia trails off briefly. “I want to see these talents of yours for myself. Shall we do a reading?” Under her rather imperious gaze, I usher her to the humble back room. The Countess seats herself across the table from me. He gaze darts around the small space before falling on the cards sitting just where I’d left them on the table between us. As I shuffle the deck, she folds her hands before her and closes her eyes. Once I have the cards laid out on the table, I draw one and turn it face up on the table.

“… The Magician.” I announce. She peers down at the card, studying its face carefully.

“How very appropriate.” The Countess observes with some irony. “And what does he hold for me?” My mind is clear. The answer comes to me as easily as ever.

“You have a plan.” I say to her. “One that’s important to you.” I can see the surprise and barely restrained excitement on her face as she listens.

“And? Should I set it in motion?” She asks. Her eyes pierce me, flashing brilliantly in the lamplight. I know exactly what to tell her.

“Yes. Now is the time to act. Everything has fallen into place.” I announce firmly. I never get a chance to elaborate.

“Say no more.” The Countess declares. Abruptly, she stands, giving the card one last glance. I’m barely on my feet when she throws back the curtains, striding purposefully back into the shop proper.

“Your fortunes are straightforward. Much the same as the others I’ve heard. And yet … you are the first to pique my interest.” She says as I exit the back room. The Countess crosses to the front door, winding the shawl around her face. I’m wondering what I should say, if anything at all when I hear her clear her throat. When I look up, I see her standing by the door, as if waiting for me to rush over and open the door for her. I meet and hold her sharp gaze as I plant my feet, unmoving. The Countess looks vaguely amused at my actions as she opens the door herself.

“I will see you tomorrow, then, at the Palace. Rest well.” With that, she strides past me and out into the night. For a moment, I’m frozen, staring after her figure long after it has vanished into the mist. What could the Countess of Vesuvia want with me, a mere apprentice? All that talk of my reputation … Once again I wonder, could it be that she mistook me for Asra? I’m still mulling it over when I hear a harsh, muffled voice come from seemingly nowhere.

“Strange hours for a shop to keep.” Who said that? My gaze darts around the shop, chasing the shadows in the dark.

“… Behind you.” The voice taunts. Sure enough, when I turn, I see a figure looming against the door to the back room. The stranger is tall, ridiculously so. His hair is a wild, curly auburn, but I can see nothing else of his features because of the mask he wears. A white plague doctor’s mask with eyes made of red glass. He is dressed totally in black and red. I’m stunned enough that I don’t react right away, so the stranger speaks.

“So this is the witch’s lair.” He drawls. “Then … who might _you _be?” Not the witch he is looking for, I guess. My heart starts racing as the masked intruder advances toward me. I call magic to my fingertips, energy surging towards the stranger.

“Ah ha! En garde, then!” He laughs. The intruder ducks, swirling the cape he wears with a completely outrageous flourish. I reach frantically behind the counter. My fingers close around an empty bottle.

“Has the witch been teaching you his tricks?” The stranger taunts as I sure up my grip. “I’ve seen them all bef-” I launch the bottle at the intruder’s head, cutting him off mid-word. Apparently, he hasn’t seen _that_ trick before.

“Ack!” Knocked loose by the blow, the stranger’s mask clatters to the floor. “… you _do_ have guts.” He says, sounding casually impressed. My racing heart stops still when he lifts his gaze to mine, peering at me through the blood running from the cut on his temple. I know his face. I’ve seen it on wanted posters all over the city … He is pale skinned, as many red-heads seem to be. The one eye I can see is steel grey, while the other is covered with a black eye patch. But his name eludes me.

“Quickly now. _Where is the witch?_” He demands. I glare up at him quite a ways considering the height difference, speaking through gritted teeth.

“Master Asra’s gone. I don’t know where.” My answer is more of a challenge than anything else. The intruder wipes at his bloodied brow.

“Is that so … well, no sense in wasting the visit. You’re a fortune teller, aren’t you?” Before I can ask what he is going on about, the stranger speaks again.

“Tell my fortune and I’ll leave you in peace.” As he speaks, he flashes me an oddly charming smile … Huh? I’m somewhat thrown by this sudden shift in conversation and tone.

“That _is_ what the back room is for, isn’t it?” He asks. I give a hesitant nod, unsure of the motives for his odd request. And what else would the back room be for?! I can feel myself bristling at the unspoken implication.

“After you, then.” He bows me toward the curtains, in what would seem like a gentlemanly gesture if it wasn’t for that damned grin. He drops himself into the reading chair, looming fearsomely over the small table.

“Go on. No need to be shy.” He says. Well, _he_ certainly isn’t shy, so maybe I should be. But I don’t voice this. Instead, I’ll give him his fortune so he will leave.

“I … I don’t know your name.” I say. That seems to throw him, if only a little.

“My name?”

“For your reading. I need to know your name.” I explain.

“Oh. Ahem. Right. Yes, of course … You can call me Julian.” He gives me that smile again. Hesitantly, I take my seat, his eyes tracking my every move. For the third time tonight, I shuffle and lay out three cards face down. Only one is turned face up. As soon as the card is flipped, my mind starts racing.

“… Death.” I say, simply. The card whispers to me, but before I can understand it, Julian interrupts.

“Death? _Death?_” He sounds incredulous as he asks, before he barks with uncontrollable laughter. He turns away from me and the cards, raising his eyes to the heavens. “Death cast her gaze upon this wretch and turned away. She has no interest in an abomination like me.” He snarls, self-hate dripping from the words. He strides out of the back room without a backward glance. Overcome with confusion, but very curious, I follow at his heels.

“Wait! That’s not what Death means. It’s-” I start to try and explain, but Julian heaves a heartfelt sigh, shaking his head. His expression is sad and resigned.

“No, no. My fate is sealed.” He argues. “But you’ve been hospitable, so I’ll let you in on a secret. Your witch friend will be back for you. He’s taught you his tricks. You may even say that he cares for you.” He lifts his mask from the floor where it had fallen earlier, staring into its glassy red eyes, as if he will find answers there.

“But when he returns … Seek me out, for your own sake. Don’t let him fool you, shopkeep.” After giving me a long, hard look, he fixes his mask in place. I have no idea what is even going on or how to respond to any of that.

“Well, then. The hour is late, and I’m out of time.” He concludes. With a swirl of his great, black cape, he throws the door open. It slams shut behind him as he disappears into the early morning fog. This has been one strange night. 


End file.
